They spent the remainder of the day in the grove, walking among the flowers and moss, speaking in low, trembling tones. They remembered their childhood adventures, the secret games, the first festival dances, the stolen kisses. Liora smiled sometimes, and Thalanir forced himself to return them, though each smile hurt like a splinter.
As dusk fell, she finally turned to leave, brushing the snow of early petals from her shoulders.
"Goodbye, Thalanir," she said, her voice steady now, though soft with sorrow. "You will always be my first love. Never forget that."
He swallowed. "Nor you mine," he said.
She stepped back into the path toward the village, toward Eryndor, and Thalanir remained beneath the willow, watching until she disappeared among the trees. The stars began to prick the sky, one by one, indifferent witnesses to a love breaking for the first time.
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